


Dance, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e15 Dead Irish Writers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-08
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: So how did the rest of the party go?





	Dance, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**A Dance**

**by:** Caroline 

**Character(s):** Jed. Abbey, CJ, Leo, Josh, Amy, Toby, Ron  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** Post-Ep: Dead Irish Writers  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** So how did the rest of the party go?  
**Spoiler:** "Dead Irish Writers"  


She was going to give up her license. For me. G*d, what we do to women. What women do for us. She's so amazing. I'll have to remember to apologize again later for this birthday party. 

I think she's had a bit more fun than she'll ever admit though. She's drunk. She won't admit to that either. It's gonna be a fun night. 

C.J., on the other hand, looks like she's in some serious pain there. Rubbing her temple with one hand and clutching the back of that chair with the other so tightly her knuckles are white. 

Amy and Josh are giving each other the silent treatment. Been there, done that. Poor guy. 

Leo's talking to Abbey- about the party-I think. 

Oops, time for the toast. That playing of the Canadian anthem really knocked me off-kilter. 

"I would like to thank all of you for helping me wish my wife 'Happy Birthday.' She made me promise not to tell the second anniversary story, so ask me about it later. I just want to say how much I've enjoyed being a part of her fifty-...Owww [her elbow jabs me in the ribs; the crowd laughs]...years. She's the only one that can get away with that, by the way. The Secret Service is terrified of her." More laughter. Abbey puts on a big smile, but I can tell she wants to kill me, or at least hit me with that elbow again. Better save yourself, Jed. "Abigail, dear, happy birthday." 

Thank G*d, that's over. I spent all that time coming up with the perfect words and then, splat. But, then again, what do you say to the woman who just offered to give up her life's work for you? 

I take Abbey's hand and lead her to a table in the corner of the room. Maybe- just, maybe- we can hide out for a while. I seriously doubt it, but a guy can dream, can't he? I watch Abbey curiously as she props her head on her hands, elbows on the table. Oh, yeah, it's gonna be a fun night. She's completely wasted. 

After over thirty years of marriage, you tend to pick up on those things- the artfully hidden glaze in her eyes, her slightly slower, more calculated movements. But she can't fool me. No, siree. 

She pours herself a glass from the bottle of wine on the table. I feel her stockinged foot rubbing against my trousered leg. I briefly break eye contact to glance around. No one is paying us any attention. That's a first. Her foot inches its way up my leg. I pray she doesn't give us away. She looks pretty normal- sipping her wine casually, part of her plan of seduction. For once, I'm thankful for this annoyingly long tablecloths that I always get caught up in. I grab her foot suddenly as it slowly continues its journey to points north. Her face shows her shock and she jumps but quickly recovers. Good girl. She almost spilled her wine there, too. 

Now that would have made for some interesting questions. C.J., why did the First Lady leave with a big wine stain on her $5000 evening gown? Well, she and the President were playing footsie and she was drunk off her ass and he grabbed her foot and, well, shocked the hell out of her while she was continuing to drink. 

I knead her foot and hear her muted moans. Suddenly there's a hand on my shoulder. I catch myself before I can utter a curse. I stop with Abbey's foot and look up at Leo. Talk about ruining the mood. He says Toby needs to talk to me. Great, I think to myself, trying my best not to let my disappointment show. I apologize to a very sulky, very pouty Abbey and kiss her cheek before I excuse myself. 

I'm not really listening to Toby and Leo as I know I should be. Instead, I'm watching Abbey across the room. Ron Erlich is talking to her. I think she's flirting with him. Who the HELL invited him?! Someone's gonna get fired tonight! Damn, Leo's looking at me as if waiting for a response. Oh, well, screw it. 

I excuse myself and Leo and Toby just exchange looks and shrug. I make my way back to Abbey. Ron's sitting in my chair, very close to my wife. I stand behind her and place my hands on her shoulders. Smiling a little too big, I greet him, "Hello there, Ron." 

Ron stands, "Hello, Mr. President. I was just wishing Abigail a 'happy birthday' and catching up." 

"Well, Ron. If you'll excuse us. I came to dance with the birthday girl." Get the heck out of here, Ronnie Boy. 

Abbey's just been sitting there, looking up at the two of us with an amused look on her face. She starts quietly laughing and soon it starts to get louder and louder. Ron and I star at her confusedly. What the hell's so damn funny? 

"What are you laughing at, Abigail?" I ask. She tries to answer, but it's impossible. She does try but gives up- she's laughing too hard. People are starting to stare openly at the three of us. I take her hand to make her stand and follow me away from Ron. I lead her outside to the same place I was practicing the toast earlier. She's still laughing uncontrollably, so I drop her hand and patiently wait for her laughter to cease. Now, slightly awkward moment, we're just staring at each other. 

"Well, what, Jethro?" 

"What was so damn funny?...And don't call me Jethro, Sweetknees." 

"You." 

"Abigail Anne, I have no idea to what you are referring." 

"You." 

"Look, Hot Pants. I know you're more than a little drunk but could you please at least TRY to string together a complete sentence?" 

"I'm not drunk, Jed. Just a tad tipsy." 

"Whatever you say, dear." 

"YOU are funny. You looked like you wanted to PUNCH poor Ron." 

"You were flirting with him," I quietly pout. 

"Flirting with him?" She raises an eyebrow in that cute little way she mocks me. 

"Yes, Mata Hari. Flirting. You know, batting your eyelashes, laughing, smiling coyly. That sort of thing." 

"Josiah Edward, you have got to be kidding me." 

"Yeah." I see the look of surprise on her face. 

"What the hell, then?" 

"I'm just messing with you. I like to do that when you're...tipsy." 

She slaps me on the arm, "Jackass." 

I pretend to be hurt by the action and the remark and rub my arm pitifully while pouting, "Owww..." 

"Yeah, okay." 

"You better watch out. I could get the Secret Service to get you. Even if it is your birthday." 

"I thought they were scared of me." 

"Oh, yeah," I say as I search for a backup plan. "That could present a problem...I guess I'll have to deal with you myself then." I wiggle my eyebrows and she tries not to smile. 

"And what, Mr. President, do you plan to do with me, exactly?" I take her by the waist and pull her close. 

"I'm not really sure. I'll have to think really carefully about it." 

"Well, you think and I'll go back to my party." She tries to get away, but I don't let her. 

"Dr. Bartlet, I believe I'll get you to stay here while I think on it." I see a flash of pain in her eyes as I use the title. Damn, I slipped. She covers and smiles. I get serious. 

"Abbey. I am so sorry. For everything. I love you." 

"I love you, too, Jed." I softly kiss her and whisper "Thank you" into her hair. I lean back to look into her now watery eyes. 

"How 'bout that dance now, Gorgeous?" I smile. 

"I'm not sure. My husband gets pretty jealous." 

"Well, miss, I think I can take him." 

"I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you. He's a VERY powerful man." 

"It'll be worth it." She smiles. 

I pull her close so her head falls on my shoulder and I can rest my chin in her hair. My hand on her lower back and her arms wrapped around me, I could stay like this forever. The music drifts softly from the party to where we sway gently to the music in a dance we perfected many years ago. I hear her whisper to herself, "You're welcome," as she tightens her grip on me. 

THE END 


End file.
